


Signed and Sealed

by Xela



Series: Little Black Dress [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Master/Slave, Mirror Universe, Possessive Behavior, Tattoos, Writing on Skin, mild blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The good Keptin gets a little possessive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signed and Sealed

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, I am still a no good wery dirtybadwrong kind of person. And Chekov is STILL a bicycle I would ride into the ground. So, apparenly, would LBD-verse Kirk...

Pavel complemented the Enterprise well, Kirk decided. The monitor readouts shade his pale skin in blues and reds, creating an alluring picture. Pavel's every move was enticing and seductive, and Kirk's crew noticed. More than one of his crew has stopped to watch Pavel walk by, enthralled and captivated. Most of them never realize that Pavel knows exactly what effect he has on each and every one of them. Kirk appreciates that: Pavel is a prize that Kirk bestows on those who really please him, and everyone wants a piece of his slave. But that is the crux of the matter—Pavel is _his,_ even if Kirk deigns to loan him out from time to time.

The vast majority of the crew understand this. A small percentage try to touch—whether because they're used to low-class slaves or they forget themselves in the face of Pavel—but Pavel easily evades their hands even as he entices them further under his spell. Kirk likes to watch the dance sometimes, sends Pavel out with instructions to seduce without touching or being touch. It's a brilliant game, one they both enjoy for different reasons.

But tonight had been different. Tonight, one of Kirk's crewmen had forgotten his place, if they had ever known it at all. Apparently Kirk's claim hadn't been made clear enough to Ensign Delandro from Orestes, who had decided Pavel would look beautiful pressed up against a wall and serving Delandro's whims.

By the time Kirk got there, Delandro was unconscious on the floor and Pavel was kneeling against the wall, as angry and uncontrolled as Kirk had ever seen him. Well, Kirk didn't become Captain by running away from his problems, so now Ensign Delandro was in an agony booth for an indeterminate length of time and Pavel was strung up in the aft playroom.

“He touch you here?” Kirk asked, nails raking over Chekov's chest. “And here?” Kirk twisted one of Pavel's nipples. Pavel whimpered and jerked against his bonds, straining up into the touch and pulling away by turns.

“You're mine, Pavel Andreievitch,” Kirk snarled. He pressed himself tight against Pavel's back, his cock settled in the crack of his slave's ass. He bit down on the juncture of Pavel's neck, teeth digging into the tendons. Pavel whimpered and leaned back into Kirk, submissive and compliant. “Mine.”

“Dah,” Pavel panted. “Always.” Kirk laughed, sharp teeth tugging at Pavel's ears.

“Let's make sure everyone knows, shall we?” he whispered darkly. He stepped away and delighted in the way Pavel's body tried to follow him, straining backwards.

He picked up a special stylus he'd acquired on Aeron V. It had a thin, sharp blade that, in a practiced hand like Kirk's, would scratch deep enough into the skin to mark but not enough to permanently mar. A nub at the top of the blade released a thick black ink that stained into the cut and created a temporary tattoo that faded in a few months' time.

“People used to identify what was theirs by putting their name to it,” Kirk said conversationally. “Clothes, cars, houses, other chattel.” Kirk carelessly signed his name across Pavel's upper chest. His boy yelled in pain and a thin line of ink-darkened blood curved along the contours of his ribs. The initial rush of pain left Pavel panting. Kirk watched as the boy's endorphins started working, easing the sting away, dulling the hurt, pushing Pavel closer towards the place where pain and pleasure intertwined.

“Yes,” Kirk breathed, taking in his name so vivid on Pavel's chest. “But I think I need something more...primal.” Kirk etched 'mine' on a diagonal over the softer skin of Pavel's stomach, each mark precise and even, predictable as Pavel's body struggled to manage the sensation. In between cuts Kirk ran his hands over Pavel's body, gentle and arousing. Pavel's hands wrapped around his chains, knuckles white as he struggled to remain still under the onslaught. His body twitched and jerked, trying to make sense of the conflicting feelings.

“Good boy,” Kirk praised, giving into the urge to lick one of Pavel's nipples. Pavel whimpered, eyes fluttering closed. Kirk chuckled, and the sound make Pavel's cock give a little lurch. Kirk pet it fondly, light enough that Pavel didn't get any real satisfaction out of the action.

“Now I know this should be obvious,” Kirk prefaced his next action, “but some things bear repeating. Over and over.” Down his slave's right arm he wrote 'this slave belongs to' and on the left 'James Tiberius Kirk.' By the time he was done every touch made Pavel moan in desire, endorphins flowing freely though his body. Pain was not something he knew anymore, only the thrum of pleasure building through him. Every touch made his cock jump, every new cut made him shake with desire.

Kirk took in the expanse of Pavel's pale white back. The Enterprise would look beautiful etched between Pavel's shoulder blades, dark lines against white skin. Not tonight; Pavel was almost too far gone for that to be fun. The boy could barely keep his head up and eyes open, he was flying high on endorphins and mild blood loss. Perhaps a project for later.

Kirk ran his hand lightly over Pavel's hip, pressing lightly against the base of his cock where a leather ring sat. Pavel shuddered and jerked, his mouth hanging open. Sweat slid down his temple and into his eyes. Kirk grabbed a towel and gently brushed it away, rubbing Pavel down like a prize stallion after a strenuous race. Pavel moaned, each touch electric and arousing.

“One more,” Kirk promised, cradling Pavel's head tenderly in his hands. He pressed a light, chaste kiss against the boy's lips, smiling when it was eagerly, earnestly returned. “Just one.”

Kirk sank to his knees in front of Pavel, stylus in hand. He waited until Pavel was coherent enough to look at him, eyes hooded. Very precisely, and a little deeper than the others, Kirk began writing “владение” down Pavel's left leg. Pavel figured out what he was writing on the fourth figure, his breath catching audibly.

“My _favorite_ possession,” Kirk said with a grin, finishing the last letter. Pavel keened, high and loud, and Kirk released the cock ring, letting Pavel slide into pleasurable oblivion.


End file.
